


Bluebird

by carolinka



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety, James Buchanan Barnes has the biggest crush, Jealous Tony Stark, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-09-29 11:25:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17202599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolinka/pseuds/carolinka
Summary: When Tony starts to get glimpses of moments from his life, future or past, he decides to go to Romania to find James Barnes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friends!  
> 1\. This fic came to me when I rewatched Arrival. You may notice I used some ideas and quotes from the movie.  
> 2\. Tony's bluebird is directly taken from Charles Bukowski's poem, "Bluebird". It always reminded me of Tony.  
> 3\. English is not my mother language and this is unbeta'd, so there might be (%100) some mistakes. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

It isn’t like a flashback or dejavu. He isn’t a voyeur, he isn’t a ghost. It is the most natural feeling in the world. It’s like right now. It’s him making the most insignificant decision possible.

When they come Tony can feel himself become _more_. He can see himself and his endless other selves collide in infinite universes. Whether he lets it or not, they come to him because something has split in his mind and it mended itself in a way no one can understand yet.

The exact same moment happens in some other place, whether it happens in the future or the past (if he tries to explain it in our inadequate understanding of time) and he lives it.

There are infinite Tony Starks in his universe, living countless moments apart from each other, never touching. And there are other Tonys in other universes and sometimes, sometimes they meet.

Sometimes he believes the best universes are where there are no Tony Stark.

*

They look at him funny when he tries to explain it. Bruce thinks it’s a combination of exposure to space defenceless and Wanda toying with her mind. He says it’s PTSD.

(Even though he always said he is not that kind of doctor, he is comfortable making that diagnosis without listening to him.)

He destroys three suits beyond recognition. His mind feels so close to snapping.

*

_There isn’t a place for air between them, all of his atoms are humming with pleasure and it is so overwhelming because so many of him (them) are colliding in that moment and it’s so familiar, the core of everything he has ever been, everything he is and everything he’ll ever get to be. He cries for all Tony’s out there without this. For the ones who can’t inhale him into their lungs and feel everything snap back into it’s place._

_“I forgot how good it felt to be held by you,” he whispers into the man’s ear and the hand in his hair tightens as the man’s breath shutters…_

*

“Enough,” he screams in his head, his mouth open but no sound leaves it. The force of the moment knocked him on his knees. The hand in his hair is not gentle at all as he rocks back and forth, pulling with a force that isn’t actually in him. It is all too much, too incomprehensible for his limited mind.

He feels like Moses, being shown a shadow of God, only he didn’t ask for it.

He curls up on the freezing floor and shakes as he relives the moment over and over, but now it’s more like a memory. He doesn’t get how he didn’t explode with all that emotion in him then. He wants to die before it actually happens.

But he knows it’s impossible to run from this.

He is living that moment now, and will continue to live it beyond eternity.

*

They’re not all that intense. In some of them he is making coffee, in some of them he’s working on a side project, way too confident in his skin for Tony’s suspicious brain. It unsettles him but it doesn’t knock him out.

In one of them he’s watching the Winter Soldier kill his parents cold blooded.

It doesn’t take him long to reach the video Natasha tried to destroy, even though he doesn’t need to find it to see it. He feels obligated to reach it, to watch it like he did **that time,** and somehow he knows he’ll end up in that moment one way or another. Black Widow might fancy herself so cunning, so clever but he has a mind that gives him clues from all over his life. He imagines a circle and tiny little loops he’s creating with every conscious decision to get to those moments. He wonders if he’s making mistakes, if he’s trapping himself just like he did with Ultron. If something is guiding him to an unforgivable act, especially if it’s his future self. 

When he relives the moment with exact same emotions, breaths and heartbeats, he wonders for a moment if he’s just seeing the future.

He watches it so many times that he is the Winter Soldier in his sleep. He is the one who squeezes the life out of his mother.

*

Steve brings him trays full of warm food he cooks, to leave in front of darkened wall of his workshop even though it just sits and rots there every time. Maybe they think he has depression or PTSD (very unlikely guess for them), maybe they think he’s creating another Ultron (pretty much certain). He sometimes says something short like “Come to us Tony,” or brings a chair with him to sit in the hallway, knowing Tony can see him.

He hates him more every second he continues to lie about his mother.

It’s not just about Steve either, he can’t let anyone inside. He can’t bring anyone inside his nightmare out of fear (for them or for himself).

He feels guilty for not letting Rhodey or Pepper into his workshop, not wanting them to see the wreckage the brought there. Instead he obeys her orders about the company and lets Rhodey baby him every once in a while. He hates the terrified look they have in their eyes when they think he doesn’t see it.

But he is kind of pleased with the bewildered look on Pepper’s face when she can’t override his instructions to leave him alone in the workshop. He is thrilled when he tells her it’s time for him to stop letting her save him, because it always makes him feel guilty.

*

Sometimes he pretends to go to places. He doesn’t think he fools them all the time but he could hardly give a shit. This time, his unhealthy coping mechanism comes handy.

“I need to be in Tokyo in six hours,” Tony says flippantly. He tries to hold her gaze steadily but somehow she manages to make him forget all those times he looked Howard in the eye, faked until there was nothing genuine about him. He wonders if it’s because Natasha has never believed him. She knows he’s lying but she’s not going to call him on it.

She’s going to store it, tear it apart, analyse it and then use it.

He’s been there already and he couldn’t care less.

He thinks he’s been to Tokyo about eleven times. He’s never been to Romania.

*

He leans on the wooden door slowly, letting his exhaustion melt into it. It’s not the flight, he knows, he has flown far longer in the suit before. It must be my age, he thinks amusedly, or the insanity.

“Your EEG doesn’t look very promising, Boss,” FRIDAY warns gently, keeping her tone so soft, so his headache doesn’t become worse. He should go to a hotel or some flat for rent first, he knows FRIDAY has already prepared a list. He should eat something, shower and come here then.

But he can’t because he wants to see this man now. He should know better than to face the freaking Winter Soldier with less than his maximum but he feels like he has a guarantee for his life that he’s not sure he wants. He doesn’t know for sure what it is inside him that he’d rather put his life in the hands of his parents’ murderer than strangle him but it doesn’t surprise him. People have always underestimated his self-destructiveness.

He knows the soldier knows he’s there, probably with a automatic gun loaded, directed at exactly where his head is. Idly, he wonders if the soldier pays rent for this place. He doesn’t know about the rents around this city, though he can’t claim to know how rents are in New York either.

“I come with peace,” he says, a sly grin on his face because this is the only person he can say this to, who caused more havoc than he did.

He can swear he hears gun’s safety click.

“Steve doesn’t know I’m here,” he sighs after few minutes because that must be what he’s thinking. He doesn’t know why Steve hadn’t ambushed his best-pal-forever yet but he started to see not long ago that he doesn’t know him at all.

His head rolls back because he’s just so fucking tired from everything. He doesn’t even know why he’s here, if he’s angry at this man or Steve or Natasha (so slimy it makes him want to tear his skin apart cleaning himself after she touches him.)

“I’m tired,” he confesses, body going lax, sliding to the floor. He closes his eyes as he tries vainly to hear inside the apartment but all he hears is a car struggling to restart and the couple downstairs screaming at each other with venom.

He always hated unhappy couples.

He almost drifted to sleep when he hears someone else sliding downwards. A small half smirk forms in his lips but he doesn’t have the strength to keep it on.

“Why are you here?” a rough voice inquires, every vowel spoken precisely. It’s like he doesn’t know how to speak his mother language anymore. He wouldn’t have heard it if not for FRIDAY.

“Because it happens this way,” he drawls, giggling to himself like a man on benzodiazepine. Then he straightens up, “Look, you owe it to me anyway. So open this door, so I can have a pillow under my neck while I sleep.”

The door clicks open after a few seconds, just a few inches. He can see one eye and a thin burgundy tshirt. Then he must have concluded he is no threat and he can see him properly.

Tony grins manically at him, hoping to see the man wince or unsettled but all he sees is a stoic face and way too much muscle. Is he thicker than Steve or is it him getting smaller?

A pathetic groan escapes him as he pushes himself up, biceps shaking with the effort. He remembers Steve urging him to join them in the gym and wonders if it’s because he looks like a chicken now.

He gives Barnes a nasty look for not lending him a hand but it goes right over his head. He has to hold on to the wall to keep his balance and he hates how much he doesn’t care that he’s letting this man see him so weak.

“Are you going to invite me in?” Tony says, trying to keep his lids open. Barnes seems to hesitate for a moment, but then he moves his huge body to let him get in.

He crashes into the sofa and after that he doesn’t remember anything.

*

When he opens his eyes, he knows exactly where he is because the soldier is sitting across the room, staring at him with utmost attention as if he’s much threat to him when he is drooling over dusty... thing.

He contemplates whether or not he’s feeling any better than he came in because his neck must have been in an awkward angle and when he sniffs suspiciously, the couch smells of curry.

“How long has it been since you cleaned this place?” he asks, not expecting for a response. He can see the footprints on the floor, some dried mud, some there because of the dust.

“This is how the last renters left it,” the other man whispers, eyes narrowed and Tony tries to hide his flinch. But of course Barnes sees it.

He sits up and stretches full body. An expression shifts in Barnes’ face but he’s a hundred year old assassin and it’s gone before he can examine it. Thank FRIDAY for her small miracles, like recording everything she sees with small cameras he inserted under his skin.

He looks around and his lips curl in distaste and he can almost feel germs hopping onto him. “We need to get a new place,” he decides at last when a car’s horn blast.

It hits him right through the chest when an almost amused look sits on the soldier’s face. His jaw slackens and his vision blurs, as he tries to fit this expression in his mind.

 _stay in there, I’m not going_ _to let anybody see you._

He doesn’t know why he remembers it again all of a sudden. His deepest pit. He has to swallow through the memories of those nights he imagined a fragile, beautiful bird caged in his arc reactor. How it was the only thing that kept him alive sometimes.

Tony throws his arms up. “I’m not sleeping in this shithole,” he says, going for casual but it comes out shaky, desperate. The soldier’s lips part, head bending to the side.

His heart skips few beats. Tony’s hand goes to the centre of his chest to rub as if to soothe his imaginary bird.

An eyebrow roses. “I won’t stop you on your way out.”

He huffs and rolls his eyes, “I didn’t stop by here so we can exchange few sentences so I can go my merry way.”

The air freezes, like in a slow motion. Tony wonders if he is having another episode because his chest feels so small for his heart, his bluebird flaps his wings around. He has never been this desperate to get out and Tony doesn’t understand why.

“Is my new place a laboratory?”

Tony feels his spine stiffen. The Soldier’s voice is now sure, lacking any emotion he had shown before. “I’m not HYDRA.”

“I know,” the soldier says, all muscles taut and ready to bolt. And wow, if this isn’t a blow.

He says so.

All he gets a shrug.

“I’m not taking you to a fucking laboratory,” he snaps. “Do they even have any in this goddamn town?” The population is 5000, for god's sake. 

He gets another shrug. Then promptly hates himself for not being gentler with him and then some more for caring for his parents' murderer. 

He rolls his eyes and gets up. “Chop chop soldier. I have some places in mind.”

“No,” Barnes firmly. Tony sighs irritated, “It’ll be much cleaner than this place. and warmer. And safer.”

“No.”

Tony knows a lost cause when he sees one. “Just me a tshirt then,” he says with contempt, “preferably clean.”

Tony’s mind goes blank when Barnes takes of his tshirt and throws it in his face.

It’s smells like heaven. His breath catches in his throat mid sniff when he remembers with horrifying clarity that Barnes’ has supersoldier hearing.

He clears his throat. “This smells fine,” he says, trying to keep his dignity. He turns around, hyperaware of the way his chest looks after years of trauma. He strips his undershirt with hurry and throws it on the dirty floor. He immediately feels warm when he wears the other man’s cloth.

When he looks back, Barnes looks %97 blank and %3 amused again. His bluebird chirps.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have my exams in a week and I really need to be studying my ass off, which is a great excuse to not edit the chapter. Sorry for any mistakes. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

 

They stand staring at each other for a few minutes and Tony, who was used to stares since he was born, squirms under Barnes’ intense gaze. He unconsciously rubs his chest, his tongue dry as a desert. What makes it worse is that Barnes looks way too comfortable staring at him, unblinking.

He cleans his throat, meaning to ask for water but what leaves his mouth is “Aren’t you going to put on something?” He winces at his squeaky voice, wishes the ground to swallow him. He is like an open book with explanatory pictures. Barnes probably can tell every thought that passes his mind.

“I wouldn’t give you that if I had anything else, would I?” the reply comes few seconds late. Maybe Tony isn’t the only one feeling awkward.

Tony frowns, “Is this the only thing you own?”

To his surprise, he gets an eyeroll. “The washing machine broke.” Which isn’t an explanation at all because a dysfunctional machine doesn’t make sense to Tony Stark.

“Where is it?”

Barnes waves his hand to his behind and Tony doesn’t waste any seconds to run there.

The bathroom is almost clinically tidy, which Tony is surprised about considering the state of the living room. He almost chokes on himself when he sees the machine.

It has to be older than him.

He turns the rusty machine carefully. When he turns back to go back to ask for some tools, he winces to see the man standing there, hands going up to his chest to keep his heart in his rib cage.

His vision is blurry and he can’t hear anything but his blood rushing to his head. He can’t understand the expression on other man’s face, just glad that he’s not approaching him. “When the fuck did you come here?”

Again, a few seconds pass. “I was here the whole time.”

“Jesus,” he whispers, glaring daggers at him. He shakes his head to clear his mind and then points to the machine. “I can fix it but we would have to find a lot of pieces. Much easier to get a new one or make one from scratch. This is probably unnecessarily complicated.”

That gets him a new kind of attention. “You can make one?”

He shrugs, not getting why this is the thing that surprises him. “Sure. If you get me what I need.”

He nods and he holds up a metal finger to ask for a moment. Tony waits patiently, and snorts when he comes back with a pen and paper. “Old school.”

Barnes watches him with a mad glint in his eyes as he scribbles down.

*

It unsettles him a little, how easily the man accepted his presence. His knees hurt from kneeling down on the floor as he takes the machine apart with precise movements. FRIDAY talks to him but understands he can’t talk back because he doesn’t want to get caught by Barnes, even FRIDAY is not a secret. He is impressed, because there are some quality pieces that you don’t find in the machines in the market now because they want you to buy a new one every five years. Maybe he’ll design some washing machines when he goes back to New York.

He wipes his hands on his tshirt and it hits him then, that Barnes doesn’t have anything else to wear. This leaves them with zero clean tops in the house.

He washes his hand in the sink and bends down to drink from the tap. In his mind, Pepper gasps, scolding him for not searching whether or not it’s drinkable.

He sneers when he goes back to the living room. “I’ve seen nicer prisons than this flat,” Tony grumbles to himself. He figures Barnes won’t be long and opens the window to watch outside, keeping an eye on the door at the same time.

He’d have gone crazy if FRIDAY wasn’t broadcasting from the Tower.

Barnes opens the door, creepily silent. Thankfully, this time Tony is facing the door and he doesn’t shit himself. He’s wearing a leather jacket, like a fucking bad boy cliché, the front zipped up to his throat.

He doesn’t say anything as he goes back to the bathroom to put his orders there.

“Someone wants me to work,” he mumbles to himself as he follows the man there. He gets a sharp gaze but he can swear Barnes looks guilty. He doesn’t know why that makes him feel guilty too.

*

With FRIDAY’s help, it’s quite easy to build the machine. He lets his hands do the work, mind whirling with thousand thoughts, none of them reaching their destination. He thinks of Pepper, Steve, Natasha, JARVIS and mostly, Barnes. At the beginning he keeps checking if he’s standing behind him but FRIDAY assures him she’ll warn him when he comes near him.

He knows he is in the kitchen and cooking but the lack of noise unnerves him, knowing without FRIDAY he’d be completely defenceless against him if something triggered him.

After some time, his girl tells him Barnes is behind him. He knows he should pretend he is not aware of him but it is already too late, he knows Barnes saw his shoulders tense, ears twitch which is something he never learned to control. He hopes Barnes didn’t pay extra attention to be quiet.

He slowly turns to him, momentarily distracted by his naked torso. “Ugh,” he says cleverly. “I’m almost done. Then we can put your clothes in.”

Barnes nods and shyly looks around, shuffling his feet. The image is so absurd that a lump forms in his throat because this man only lived about twenty five years with free will. And so much more being someone's weapon.

“I made some food,” he whispers, eyes shifting around so quickly that Tony’s afraid he’ll get concussion.

“Oh, thank you,” Tony says like he didn’t know about it, like his stomach wasn’t digesting itself. “Now that you mention it, I’m quite hungry.”

It is mesmerising to see the tension bleed out of his muscles. He doesn’t make eye contact but his face looks, not happy, but content. “I’ll set the table then,” he says, eyes set on the ceiling, “call me when you’re done.”

Tony hums and wonders how did he end up having domestic conversations with the Winter Soldier of all people.

*

The meal is simple, chicken with mushrooms with some vegetables but it tastes good. Tony has never been someone who enjoys food much but he compliments him nevertheless and there is a flicker of joy in the man’s eyes that for a split second he thinks he’d eat anything to see him a huge grin.

He sits there with panic settling in his chest, to see this man, someone who must have been so bright and lovely once, grasping at crumbs of human connection. It reminds him of himself and he thinks, if I ever let my bird out, it would be for him.

*

Barnes tells him to shower.

“Do I smell that bad?” he says with a small smile on his face to let him know he’s only teasing. Still, it takes him some time to grasp it. He can see the moment Barnes thinks he made a mistake but then he shrugs and tries a to form a smirk. He fails.

Still, he plays along. “I can barely breathe.”

Tony makes a show of sniffing himself. “What am I gonna wear then? Can’t go around naked, I have to consider your delicate sensibilities.”

“I’ll go fetch you underwear, then my virtue is relatively safe,” he deadpans. Tony can’t help but chuckle despite the absurdity of the situation.

He even gets a clean towel.

He feels his face heat when he looks at himself in the mirror after he showers, worrying his lips with his teeth because the fabric stretches thin across his ass.

It comes then and it shocks him more than the first time, which should be impossible but when it happened the first time he was wary of everything, he jumped at every sound. Now that he was away from the tower, from everyone and all the responsibilities that comes with it he was feeling more at ease than he did in years, which was so ridiculous considering where he was, but in reality he felt it suited him very well.

*

_Steve and James are standing close, their knees touching comfortably and they are leaning into one another’s personal space without thinking about it. He feels his stomach twist, with something dangerously similar to jealousy. He watches them with bitter resentment, wants to shake James to remind him all those promises he made. He knows he’s being unreasonable but seeing them together never gets easier. In fact he dreads every moment they spend together, even though Steve makes a part James heal, somewhere he can’t touch._

_James catches the sight of him and his mischievous grin leaves its’ place to a soft smile, eyes crinkling in the corners and a shaky sigh leaves his lips. His metal fingers twitch unconsciously towards him and Tony buries his jealousy, goes to him. He can Steve’s eyes on him too but he pays him no mind and settles himself between James’ thighs. James' eyelids flutter, warm flesh hand coming up to rest on his chest, other gripping his waist to pull him close._

_He wants to check if Steve is watching them but he can’t look away. James’ hand burns through his clothes and Tony imagines his bluebird nibbling on his fingers._

_He is half aware that Steve is walking away and his heart sings mine, mine, mine, mine. He hopes Steve hears it._


	3. Chapter 3

His heart is beating dangerously fast for someone who had multiple open heart surgeries. It feels like his blood left his body and his heart is trying so hard to bring him warmth and oxygen but it’s failing him. Bruce’s lectures about stress, adrenaline and hypertension flow his mind and it’s a welcome distraction, albeit an inadequate one.

He tries to focus on more how he’s feeling physically than what he just lived through. The tremor in his normally steady fingers, the dry tongue, harsh breathing.

Jealousy doesn’t surprise him, he can admit to himself even now that he is somehow jealous of their relationship, but the degree of the feeling in that moment baffles him.

The way James bared his throat to him, the way his whole body reached out to him like a sunflower, the vulnerability in his gaze when he looked up to him like Tony was everything he was waiting for…

He swallows, massaging his temples gently because he doesn’t want to think too much on how he was drawn to James, how he felt like he couldn’t touch him soon enough.

It feels like cheating, like he is taking advantage of someone when they aren’t aware they are causing such emotions.

*

James. That’s how he thinks about him and it took barely one second for that name to be muscle memory. When he trails back to where the man is, he smiles to himself because James keeps sneaking glances at him behind his long hair as he vacuums the floor. He thinks James is letting Tony catch his eyes and wonders if this is his way of flirting.

It’s like those high school chick flicks. And this revelation makes everything lighter somehow.

“You okay there?”

James’ eyes jump up to his face and one second his gaze is sharp, focused then his eyes are shifting around. “You,” he starts, mouth opening and closing. Tony is torn between worry and amusement. He hums noncommittally, just to encourage him to finish his words.

“So small,” he says in the end. Tony surpasses the urge to hit himself straight in the face, he’s heard this one so many times that the urge to scream is rather easy to bury. He stops a comment about Howard and Maria being tiny because he can’t imagine any scenario where talking about them making anything better. At least just then.

“Still so cute though,” Tony winks and that actually gets him an actual smile, his first one. He wants to have Steve’s ability to capture moments in that moment, and maybe freeze the time and live in his tiny, genuine joy until he becomes it.

“Very,” he replies, which is so much more than Tony could hope for and he shoots him a lopsided grin. The air around them becomes thicker, Tony can see dusts flying around, looking like magical snow in soft evening light.

Tony is the first one to break the eye contact but now because it has become awkward.

He is flustered.

He feels sheepish about the memory, and he is hyper aware that he is half naked but there is something so adorable about seeing this huge man leaning down to make sure he doesn’t miss any spots under the couch.

James shoots him a confused look, like he isn’t sure why anyone would watch him vacuuming. “You can sleep in the bedroom. You must be tired,” he offers. Tony clears his throat, flushing instantly. The idea of sleeping in his bed is tempting and very counter productive place to be with his hard on, unless he plans on being a creep and getting caught in the process.

Still, he is a big boy who has enough gruesome things to think about and his erection leaves before it can knock on the door.

“I’m fine, thank you fort he offer though. So what do you do around here normally?”

James raises his eyebrows, “I work. This is my day off actually.”

Tony slaps his forehead. “Of course, sorry about that.”

“It’s okay, saturdays and sundays, as you must know,” James sounds like he is hiding a grin in his shoulder and Tony’s lips stretch to a shit eating grin.

“What do you do on Sundays? Go to church and wait for some nice ladies?”

James snorts, “Fuck no, I’ve always hated going to church,” then he pauses, “if I’m remembering it correctly.”

Tony hums thoughtfully, “So you remember stuff from the past?” he asks as delicate as possible.

James shrugs, lips curling downwards and face souring. “Some bits. I can’t be sure if they are real though.”

Tony nods and decides it’s too early to speak about this yet. “If you don’t got any hot dates, we can replace this monstrosity,” he points to the couch.

“The average age here is like 75,” James rolls his eyes and Tony is ridiculously charmed.

Tony hums, a impish smirk in his lips. “Right, too young for you.”

James actually sputters and throws a dusty pillow at him, which he easily dodges. “I’m thirty, tops,” he grumbles but his heart is obviously not in it.

“How I miss being thirty,” Tony drawls, “are you trying to make me jealous?”

James stares at him like he lost his mind and Tony wonders if he took the joke too far, if this is somewhat triggering to talk about ages to someone who might be touchy about it. God knows Steve lost his shit almost every time, until he realised Tony was actually just trying to ease the animosity between them. Tony shuffles his feet unsure of what to do but James puts him out of his misery soon enough. “Do you think my body ages with normal pace?”

Tony is taken aback with the question and it shows in his face. “I don’t know what they did to your body, how similar it is to Steve’s but if it’s, I can say you age, but you are safe from common illnesses and conditions, so you’re much more likely to live longer than a normal person. But I can’t be sure, couldn’t say for sure even if it was my expertise.”  
James nods solemnly and gives him a fragile look. “You have a heart condition,” he mumbles.

Tony laughs bitterly, “Darling, my heart condition has me, that’s more like it.”

It doesn’t make James laugh, and his face darkens. “I can hear it.”

“Oh,” Tony says dumbly. “Sorry?”

“It scares me,” he says it like a confession, like a child telling her mom not to leave her in the kindergarten. And his own analogy is creepier than he can let it slip aside without guilt.

Tony looks into his eyes, dumbfounded to see the worry in them. He doesn’t know why this man is suddenly concerned about him. It unnerves him, that only few hours of pleasant human contact were enough for James to unravel. It would be so easy to take advantage of it if others knew about it.

It hurts him a little bit, how much James is like him in that regard.

He reassures him with enough confidence to fool Steve if it came to it, “Don’t worry, I have some great doctors looking after me.”

James nods but he doesn’t look relieved. “I should go and get some heart friendly food for you.” He looks around with a determined look and leaves the vacuum resting against the wall.

Tony’s jaw drops to the floor because the last time he heard something like this, it was Pepper and she sounded close to shooting him in the face. “That’s not really necessary but thank you,” he says but James cuts him off. “No, no, there is a small farmers market today,” he says absentmindedly and puts on his jacket, pats the pocket for his wallet, “organic, they say. Apparently they are what you fellas go for these days. Healthier.” And he is gone before can Tony get another word in.  
*

He runs to the window to watch James if he happens to head out that way. It is a gray day, and the dust doesn’t help with the gloomy air. His mind starts taking note of everything he can fix, especially that old Ford in front of the apartment. Even an older lady is trying to get it started with some vicious sounding words thrown in. James steps out of the front door and reaches the woman to reach in and do something he can’t see. The car starts loudly and the woman pats James’ head with a wrinkly hand. As she drives off, James looks up and Tony can swear he winks at him. He can’t help smiling dreamily.

He chats with Pepper as he stares out the window, waiting for James to come back. A black cat jumps in front of him out of nowhere as Pepper tries to coax him into telling where is he and he shrieks, falling on his ass.

“Tony?” Pepper gasps, “Are you hurt?”

“No, just a cat,” he assures, “but I gotta go, I love you, I’ll call you back.”

Pepper sighs, resigned, “Just don’t die or injure yourself okay?”

“Don’t worry Pep, I think I’m safer here than the Tower,” he confesses.

When he’s done he gives the cat a hard glare, “You can’t just go around scaring people for the laugh of it.”

The cat gives him an unimpressed glare and stares down at him. They stay like that for few minutes, then the cat gives surprisingly soft meow and jumps inside. It looks well fed and clean, so he assumes James won’t be too angry for letting the cat break in. He won’t be the one to kick a cat out.

The cat sniffs the couch then jumps on it, only to start licking his ass. Tony can’t help but think he has big testicles.

He collects himself and sits on the chair to keep an eye on the cat, so it doesn’t shit somewhere.

“You can’t be that dirty, come on,” he complains, after ten minutes. “What did you do, bump uglies with someone you hate, so now you have to wash yourself clean?”

He doesn’t get an answer.

When James comes back, the cat runs to the door meowing loudly and puts his paws on James legs. James puts the bags on the floor and an apple rolls on the floor rather dramatically. He grabs the cat by the armpits and settles him on the crook of this flesh arm like a baby. Tony tries to not let the hearts in his eyes show but he gives a pathetic cooing sound when James kisses the cat on the top of his head.

James looks up to him, “You met Wilson?” His face looks suspiciously flushed, his eyes fixed on the wall behind him.

Tony hums and playfully glares at the cat, “He disarmed me and broke in.”

James mumbles something to the cat, probably congratulating him on his abilities. He puts Wilson down and the cat rubs himself against his legs, keeping his eyes on Tony. He wouldn’t be surprised if he started pissing around James.

“I’ll put these in the kitchen,” he chokes out and Tony frowns at him. He then realises he is almost naked and self consciously crosses his arms in front of himself. He doesn’t look at the man either, feels his own face heat as well. He can feel the intensity of James’ glare, sees him approaching, the cat almost tripping him a few times in the process.

He stops closer than he anticipated. He can see some chest hair under the jacket and he gets a strong urge to feel it under his palms.

His flesh hand come up to him slowly, so Tony can get away if he wants to but despite the shame and feeling of inadequacy, it is the last thing he wants.

His hand settles on his shoulder, thumb digging into his collarbones. He stares at his neat nails, the visible veins disappearing into the sleeve of his jacket. He smells cigarettes on his fingers when his hand cups his jaw and neck.

It reminds him of his mother, who could smoke three packets a day if Howard was more of a dick that day.  
He doesn’t let the memory make him snap at James and lets him hold his gaze. His gulp is audible when James’ thumbs caresses his lips tentatively. A shuttered breath leaves his lips, making Tony imagine about making that mouth even redder.

This metal hand, warmer than he expected, tugs at his arms covering his chest. Tony lets them fall easily and nuzzles the hand holding his face.

He looks up to James under his lashes, his head fuzzy with pleasure. He gives a pleased hum when he sees James’ eyes blown wide with arousal, or excitement. He’ll take either.

Then he has to bite down on his lips hard to keep the frustrated growl in when James steps back suddenly. At least now he knows it’s not because James finds him unattractive, considering his eyes keep coming back to check out every inch of him every five seconds.


	4. Chapter 4

It’s so strange for him, the domesticity. He hangs the clothes, something he hasn’t done since college, as James hides in the kitchen after mumbling something he’s probably not supposed to understand.

It bugs Tony, James’ over eagerness. His own openness is something else, it’s hard to differentiate what he has lived in this body from what he’ll live in the future, so it almost feels like he’s reliving his relationship from start with him in a way. He knows what this leads to, but it’d kill him inside if he took advantage of this man on the way, even if he doesn’t mean to.

His slight unease turns into agitation soon after FRIDAY informs him Steve has called him 12 times in the last five hours. He must have used his top priority codes to make FRIDAY relay his calls.

“Is there an emergency at all?”

“Nothing that I’m aware of, unless you consider Mr. Rogers’ distress as emergency, Boss,” FRIDAY informs him with a suspiciously dull tone, which makes him think she’d rather give a rant on how much Steve’s emotions are not valid for them.

“Tell him to stop smothering me.”

“Done, Boss. Shall I block his number if he persists?”

“Damn, FRIDAY,” he chuckles, “you are one salty kid.” 

He hangs the remaining clothes without sparing a glance to his watch. For all that talk about his stubbornness in the media, he doesn’t even come near Steve. He knows how this’ll end already. With him picking up the damn call.

James is eating a sandwich as long as his forearm when he comes to the kitchen. He swallows hurriedly, gesturing to the fruit salad across him. “I can make you a sandwich too.”

Tony waves the offer off. “Not hungry,” he says as he sits on the chair across him. “Guess you have spectacular metabolism as well.”

James shrugs, not quite meeting his eyes. He assumes this new shyness is a product of him touching his mouth rather sensually. Or maybe it is the way he responded hungrily.

He picks a strawberry and chews it slowly. He watches James take small bites in quick succession, their eyes meeting occasionally. Tony wants to say something to reassure him it’s fine, more than fine but he can’t find the right words. Everything he thinks of saying sounds either condescending or clingy. He eats the whole plate under five minutes as he’s distracted by everything around him, the cupboards, James’ Adam’s apple, old refrigerator, James’ pecs, James’ hair, James’ goddamn sixpack. It reminds him of Ana Jarvis, who’d make him eat all sort of healthy foods, including broccoli, spinach while she’d distract him with stories about Europe. He thinks he’d never come to appreciate Europe aesthetically like Ana, as a man who lives in the skies in a completely automated building. He wonders if James is one of those people who can sit in an old place and get lost in his thoughts imagining thousand of people who walked around where he is sitting.

This overwhelms him sometimes, that he is nothing in the great scheme of things. That there were more people who was famous, rich, maybe even good deep down, that are already forgotten in the pages of history. James would be one of them who feels comforted that he could be erased from history and the fate would align himself one way or another.

His eye twitches when FRIDAY replays Steve’s voicemail. “Tony, would you please pick up? I want to hear your voice.” He sounds earnest, worried and it makes him want to throw up everything he’s eaten.

Tony feels his blood pressure spike, his vision blurring in the corners. He would’ve picked up the call hours ago if it was anything other than a way for Steve to tend his bruised ego that day. He has already checked in with with FRIDAY again, who assured him there was no immediate danger, nothing that required his assistance. Not even a broken thing to fix. “Is there a hospital near, just in case I pop an aneurysm?” he mutters between his gritted teeth viciously. He gives his wrist stinky eye and considers blocking his supposed teammates. Maybe he is overreacting, or at least Natasha would definitively suggest that, and Steve would give him that disappointed face that gives him creeps every time he sees it. It reminds him too much of Howard.

He can see James is manipulating his breathing to be controlled and monotone. Tony bets his suit that if he let go, he would be hyperventilating and fanning himself.  
He sighs, “It’s your best pal calling,” he explains. He managed to control his rising distress at the beginning as Steve kept calling him stubbornly but he was always a bit less controlled when it came to Steve. Whether it is dislike or hero worship.

Barnes is still pointedly breathing rhythmically, eyes unblinking, which is kind of hilarious considering he looks closer to having an aneurysm than him. And he hasn’t taken his medication for at least a week now. He realizes his mistake fairly quick though and hastily tries to fix the misunderstanding. “He is not calling for you dumbass, he’s calling for me,” he huffs. “Probably wants to know how I dared to leave the tower without consulting him first.”

It’s fascinating to see James relax and blink stupidly few times. It annoys him more that he’d like to admit, to see him this affected by the mention of Steve’s name. And that damn memory is fuelling his anger right now and James’ confused stare doesn’t help at all.

Tony shakes his head, holds onto his last bit of willpower not to snap on a guy who was brainwashed for seventy years. “I wasn’t trying to deceive you into something coming here,” he says through clenched teeth. He sees James flinch, which is enough sign that Tony actually hurt him with his barely contained rage. “Sorry, sorry,” he mumbles, gripping his hair tight and pulls. The sharp pain lets him focus better for a second. “He just drives me insane.”

“Why?” James almost whines, so lost and Tony knows he shouldn’t talk like this about Steve but it gives him a strange pleasure badmouth him in front of someone Steve holds so dear.

He would disapprove so hard, Tony thinks with glee. How much he wants Steve to know about this.

“We don’t really see eye to eye,” he replies vaguely, letting James draw conclusions. “But I have to take it or he’s never going to give up.”

James smiles like they’re sharing some fond inside joke about Rogers and Tony has to close his eyes and count every country he can remember, from Togo to Russia, so he doesn’t scream or run through the closed windows to get the fuck away.

When he opens his eyes, it is to find out that James now knows not to smile endearingly when Tony spits fire about his best friend.

“I’m now going to your balcony,” he says very slowly and very carefully, “to get some fresh air and talk to him. I’m not going to tell him anything about this because I don’t owe him shit. But if you want to talk to him later, or see him, you can just ask. I’ll make it happen.”

James nods uncertainly, like he doesn’t know what to do with this choice. He feels shameful and guilty, which makes his twisted joy in tarnishing Steve’s memory go sour. He walks out of the door and says as a last retort, not waiting for a reply or a reaction, “But I promise you I’d never forgive you if you tell him it was me bringing you to him.”

*

He closes the door behind him and sits on one of the chairs. The cat watches him unblinkingly but he pays him no mind.

“Yes, Cap?” he says, the wariness in his voice surprising him.

“Tony,” Steve says, sounding so rejected and happy at the same time. “Tony,” he repeats.

“I’m fine, don’t you worry,” he rubs his eyes, telling himself, _he’s lying to you, don’t fall for this._

“I just,” he croaks out, “you didn’t seem fine in the last few months and now you’re gone and I couldn’t reach you. God, I thought…”

“What did you think Cap?” His voice is so tired, resigned.

“Tony? Why are you calling me Cap?” Tony hates himself because he can see Steve crystal clear, eyes bright with unshed tears, a confused frown. It is a look he hates, especially if he’s the cause.

“Steve,” he corrects, “Sorry. Just give me some space, okay? I’ll call you in a few days so you don’t have to go crazy on me, alright?”

Steve sighs on the other end, giving up so easily that Tony is suspicious for a moment. Maybe it is his broken voice. “Alright. You know you can talk to me anytime?”

“See you later, Steve.”

*

James looks awkward and guilty when he comes back to kitchen. Tony snorts unattractively, “You heard everything, didn’t you?”

“Kind of,” he confesses, then rushes on. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re a very, lovely, guest,” he says gesturing wildly, blush getting darker. “But I don’t see why you’d be here if it isn’t Steve making you.”

Tony ignores the last remark and smiles coyly at James. “Oh, am I lovely? Tell me more.”

That seems to snap him out of his shyness, and a cocky grin appears on his lips. It takes him few moments to be able to take his eyes off that sinful smile, and he thinks he is a bit flushed when he meets gray eyes. “I think I’d rather wait until I have something to say you haven’t heard before,” James drawls confidently, and fuck him, he has always been attracted to confident people.

“But you say it so much better,” he says sweetly, his body relaxed and open, face resting on his palm like he is a school girl with a crush. It gives him a kick to the stomach when James’ pupils widens, mouth forming a perfect O.

Tony sees his mind short circuit, and takes the edge off his smile and let it become unthreatening. He’s heard so many times his full attention can be overwhelming.

“James,” he says softly, “can I call you James?”

James is only redder now but he nods. “I’d… I’d like that.”

“Do you have a toothbrush I can use?”

James looks confused for a second, then he gives a low chuckle. “Sure, Tony,” he says with a careful tone. And he smiles brightly when Tony nods.

*

Tony must have known he’d end up in his bed tonight.

It was glorious.

It was also surprising. Because James Barnes _loved_ to talk. It started as an awkward attempt to fill the silence as they were both trying to fall asleep. Tony was apparently more comfortable lying close to him than James was because when he started he was almost asleep. Despite his exhaustion, it was hilarious to listen to him talking about this small town, something he was never a part of. He’d always thought small places had no souls; as a mechanic, he liked bigger cities much better, every person as a part of functioning machine. But listening to James, he thinks he must have been wrong. Every street, ever sign has a story. There is a sob story for everyone, and also a funny one.

“Why this place?” he asks when James smiles to himself after an embarrassing story about the lady upstairs.

“They always sent me to places, you know,” he tries to explain, voice still rusty. His eyes are distant but focused. “I wasn’t allowed to stay anywhere longer than necessary and where I stayed was always someone else’s choice. I like it here, the air, people’s mentality. The uncertainty. There are hardly young people here. These are the people who stayed. These people are afraid of their own hope. They remember the old times and thank god for what they have, that they can fill up their children’s belly, send them to universities in other cities so they can leave and never come back but they never take it for granted. It’s encoded in them. The flightiness, the distrust. They didn’t leave this place but they can let this city on fire and never come back.”

Tony doesn’t answer, taking it all in. He draws small circles on James’ arm, which he found out that puts a blissed out smile on his face.

His fingers start to go lax and his eyes close without his permission, probably already asleep for some time when a small voice startles him. “Tony?”

Tony hums, drowsy with sleep. “Yes?” There is a tense silence that follows this, where unsaid words fill the air to be spoken. Tony can see where this is going, somehow not that surprised that they are having this talk this early into their “relationship”. He sighs and rolls around to face him completely, only to meet James’ tense shoulders. He hesitates, then slowly reaches out to his shoulder to gently turn him on his back.

He keeps his hand on his biceps and squeezes. “I know, James,” he assures him softly. He takes few deep breaths to steady his voice. “I don’t blame you.”  
James stares at the ceiling, blinking furiously. Tony would think it looks stupid, if he wasn’t familiar with blink to keep the tears away game.

“You...don’t?” James repeats hesitantly, his voice small.

He hums, letting his hand roam to his warm chest. “You’re not responsible for their actions,” Tony says carefully, words slurred with exhaustion.

James must have picked up his need for sleep because he lets go and murmurs “We’ll talk about it later.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave feedback if you enjoyed, or if you have any suggestions/criticism :) It really makes me happy like nothing else.


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